


Say, Pal

by ColonelSassacre



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Don't Starve, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColonelSassacre/pseuds/ColonelSassacre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a nice story about Wilson and Maxwell so if you ship it or play Don't Starve then read it okay</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> italics problem fixed UuU

    Wilson Percival Higgsbury ran like a mad-man through the dimming forest. He weaved in between trees and tufts of grass with astonishing speed. His heart pounded heavily in his ears as quick, frantic puffs of breath heaved between gritted teeth. He dashed past a spider's nest, not yielding even a flinch as the dark, peevish arachnids hissed their contempt, for the gentleman scientist had something far more sinister on his trail. Something that haunted the few dreams that graced him on these sleepless nights. With his chilling, condescending demeanor and distinct scent of cigar smoke and expensive cologne, the thing's presence was enough to batter his psyche for weeks after.

    Maxwell.

    Wilson thought he heard a darkly amused chuckle as he ran smack into a tree and was thrown onto his backside. He let out a faint, involuntary whimper as he heaved himself back to his feet and continued his mad sprint. But the sun was falling far too quickly, and Wilson knew he wouldn't make it back to base in time for sun-down.

    Even at the time, Wilson knew he shouldn't have left shouldn't have left base so late in the day, but he'd gone through several wormholes, regardless, and had managed to get himself into a fight with a swarm of killer bees. Being forced to flee, he'd opted for his log suit when the conflict turned nasty, and soon was forced to leave his backpack. This left him toolless, lightless, and starving, on top of all things, as he frantically scanned for any stray pieces of flint or twigs. He'd managed to collect all of them, it would seem, with cruel thoroughness his first time through.

    It was at this point that the whispers started.

    Only whispers of his name, initially.

     _Wilson. Wiiiiilson._

    For the first few times, he'd thought he was imagining it. He'd thought he was finally going off the deep end after weeks void of human contact or physical touch, that is, aside from occasional, violent collisions in scraps with monsters. He was sure that it must have finally twisted his mind, not only in his emotional well-being, but in his very perception of the world around him.

    Then he'd realized who's voice it was, emanating from the shadows stirred by the setting sun. Almost as soon as the realization hit, the volume of the whispers incremented, while the message became clearer.

    They started describing the things they wanted to do to him.

     _Say, Pal. You don't look so good._

_Why don't you let me fuck your face in?_

    Wilson ran. He ran like he never had before. He wasn't sure where exactly the destination was, but neither did he give it any more thought than simply  _away_ _. Away_ from the whispers, _away_ from the demon tracking his every step-

   _I'll thrust into you so deep-_

_Pal._

_So deep-_

_That you won't see the light of tomorrow._

_Then I'll fuck your corpse, even as it rots-_

_Full of maggots_

_Your tortured soul mine to play with-_

_You don't look so good._

_For all eternity._

_Say, Pal. You don't look so good._

    Wilson let out a yelp as he fell into the edge of the swamp, having been too panicked to see where he was going. He thrashed around for several seconds before trying to pull himself out, but to no avail. He'd fallen so blindly and with such force, he was stuck waist-deep in the mucky terrain. There was no chance of escape on his own. He let out an exasperated moan as he once more thrashed his limbs through the muck, slowed by the thickness of the gooey liquid. The sun continued its descent, just a crack over the horizon, and-

    And now it was night.

    Normally, Wilson's heart would be pounding against his chest, scrambling frantically to assemble a torch or set something alight with a spark from colliding flint, but he had neither the material to do so, nor the desire. A cold, blank calmness suddenly grasped him. The Grue was, by far, a better fate than what could have otherwise taken him. He let out a small, nervous chuckle at the realization. It felt nice, for once, to give in to the forbidden desire of resignation.

    After all of the scrambling, after all of the fighting... It felt gratifying to finally give in, even if it weren't his first time dying. He was almost winning by not fighting the forces, but accepting them. Through acceptance, he gained a sort of control.

A wary smile slid over Wilson's face as he awaited the Grue's low hissing, or the low bubbling that preceded the tentacles. The promise of escape, even if for but a moment, was a beacon he clung to with all his might.

    But the hissing never came, nor did the bubbling.

    It was almost as if they  _knew_. They  _knew_  Wilson wasn't theirs to claim. This was Maxwell's world, after all, and what Maxwell desired, none of his creatures dared take from him.

    Then all was quiet. The whispers had stopped upon his descent into the swamp, Wilson noted. Or had they? He couldn't recall. He did know, however, that not even the insects, nor the occasional shift of sloppy earth broke the thick sheet of silence that had fallen over the darkness that surrounded him. With both sight and hearing gone, the confusion from earlier broke back in a cruel, chilling déjà vu; Wilson couldn't quite tell whether it was the world around him, or merely his perception of it that had been muted.

     _Wilson._

    The silence was broken.

   _Wilson._

_Say, Pal-_

  **Wilson.**

    He frantically jerked his head from one direct, to another, vainly attempting to find the source of the whispers. They were hammering him relentlessly from all directions. Some were spoken, while others were just barely hissed, piling upon eachother to the point of incomprehensibility, excpet for the short, gruesome snips that made his skin crawl. All were alike, however, in the sense that each was voiced by that same, inhuman snarl.

_I want you Wilson._

_You don't look so good._

_Rip your hair out-_

_Wilson._

_Going to chew your skin-_

_Pal._

_Going to fuck deep into your eye sockets-_

_Wilson._

_With your own hard, dripping cock-_

_Rip it right off you_

_Wilson._

_Then you'll swallow mine-_

_Say, Pal._

_Choke on it._

_Deep in the back of your throat-_

_Better find something to eat before night comes._

    Forceful hands suddenly dug into his hips, tugging him out of the muck with a power that strained his joints. The scientist elicited a pained cry, but was unable to dwell on affliction for very long. When he was pulled back to solid ground, the area had been lightened just enough, by some unknown means, for him to panickedly stare into the glinting gaze of his pursuer.

    “You're mine now, Pal.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welp here you go

    Wilson let out a silent scream as Maxwell, grinning and on top of him, dug his claw-like fingers through the worn fabric of his trousers. The demon wasted no time, it would seem, as he hungrily tore a long run down the fabric of the dirty pant leg. His nails dug through the top layer of Wilson’s skin, leaving behind thick lines on his thigh that were turning rapidly from white, to pink, to oozing thick, red beads of blood. Maxwell grasped the front of the pants and tore once more, this time leaving a long rip directly above Wilson's crotch. Long, skeletal fingers just barely grazed his skin as the fabric was brushed to either side. Wilson whimpered, and Maxwell's sadistic grin only widened, feeding off the scientist’s terror. Then, with one powerful tug, he yanked the trousers down to Wilson’s knees, and brought them down to his ankles in a second. Eyeing the bare, pallid legs below him, Maxwell suddenly ran a finger down the side of Wilson’s bleeding thigh, the nail cleanly scraping against the raw skin. He brought the finger up to his lips, licking the blood neatly off the tip in a manner much akin to his gruesome mosquitos.

    Wilson's eyes rolled back, and he groaned. His thigh ached just about as much as his stomach, which had been empty since early yesterday. Through the slight dizziness that started to settle over him, he thought he saw Maxwell reposition himself to sit back on his haunches. It was as if he were admiring his handiwork. His legs were on either side of Wilson’s hips as he locked gazes with him, staring him down with a cold, calculating gaze. The scientist shook the woozy feeling away, forcing himself to meet the malicious stare of his captor, although not without trepidation.

    After several seconds of silent, menacing observation, Maxwell tipped his head back and let out a cold, throaty laugh. Wilson cringed, squirming underneath the lanky figure. The unnatural sound that escaped the demon’s mouth was more chilling than anything Wilson had experienced in the lonely nights of the wilderness. In it, Wilson sensed the anguished cries sounding from the countless victims deceived and claimed before him. He heard a thousand charming lies and a thousand betrayed acceptances, each one merging to form the haunting cackle that sounded hollowly from the wide slit in the demon’s face.

    Wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye, Maxwell finally ceased laughing and stared directly at Wilson. His three-piece suit was just as it had always been. The silky, black material fit loosely and naturally over his abnormally long limbs, and the red poppy shone just as vibrant as the day he’d first set eyes on it. A part of Wilson couldn’t help but admire otherworldly grace the tall figure possessed, even with his lanky frame.

    Still smiling, Maxwell started to lean in closely to Wilson’s face. It was from here that he could see every detail, each wrinkle that dented his otherwise flawless skin, the laugh lines that edged the corners of his ancient, knowing eyes, and, most peculiarly, his _teeth_. Wilson hadn’t been able to tell from afar, but the arrangement of the demon’s teeth was unlike any he had seen before in a man. There were far more packed into each row, and each one was far smaller than what Wilson would have previously imagined. For some reason, this seemed especially unnerving to him. The entire setup made for an appearance far from human, and something much more…Primal.

    As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, Wilson imagined all of those tiny teeth that close to his skin, and shivered. Some deep part of the scientist in him wanted to know if it were a common anatomical arrangement amongst demons, or if it were Maxwell’s own unique trait. An even deeper part of him, however, thought a more forbidden thought. Too ashamed to admit it, Wilson imagined the things those teeth could do to him.

    “I’d like to say this will be fun for both of us, Pal,” He felt surprisingly hot breath graze his ear as Maxwell’s voice sounded dangerously against his skin. He shivered once more, attempting to suppress a moan, but a low hum managed to force its way up his throat. “But I’m afraid that would make me a liar.” His lips grazed the tip of his ear as he whispered the last word, causing Wilson to squirm against the demon’s solid middle. As he rubbed against Maxwell's core, Wilson thought he felt an even more solid protrusion beneath the firm torso.

    There was a sharp, sweet pain suddenly on his left ear, as Maxwell bit down sharply. Surely he’d drawn blood. Wilson gasped, arching his back against the unmoving body above him. Maxwell trailed down his neck, whispering unknown words as his lips just barely nibbled the surface of his skin. Every once in a while, he would bite down forcefully, drawing gasps of pain from the gentleman scientist, which soon turned to cries, then to moans.

    Lifting away for but a second to peer mischievously into Wilson’s eyes, Maxwell forced himself upon his lips, kissing powerfully and surprisingly passionately. Wilson didn’t bother to hold back his moans, and instinctively returned the kiss, pressing deep into the light smirk that played on the demon’s lips.

    His strong arousal confused him, but somewhere, in the back of his mind, he justified the feeling with weeks of isolation in the wild. His life before had virtually void of human contact- at least, whenever he could help it- but perhaps there was something about sleeping night after night on a rocky floor in front of a dim campfire, fighting each and every day for one’s life that tapped into a man’s primal instincts, and, consequently, primal desires.

    That was surely it.

    Wilson started to reach toward Maxwell’s collar, fumbling with the tie and buttons, but was pushed back down by a firm hand. Their lips broke, and Maxwell let his smirk fully possess his wet lips. “You don’t want to make me a liar, do you, Pal?” Wilson stared up at Maxwell with a look of exasperation. Seeing this, Maxwell continued smirking, but very slowly reached up to undo his tie. “Fine, then. I guess I can get away with being a man of my word _most_ of the time, you think?” Maxwell folded his tie neatly in half before setting it aside, moving to shrug off his jacket.

    Wilson reached a tentative hand up at a button, only to have it swatted back at him. Maxwell tsked him. “Patience,” he murmured, “is the key to pleasure. That is what they say, isn’t it?” Wilson cleared his throat.

    “Something along those lines,” he managed. Maxwell shot him a beam, which was far scarier than it should have been. His toothy smile sent a chill down the scientist's spine.

    “Say, Pal! That’s the first coherent string of words you’ve given me all night. You’re normally much _chattier_ than this.”

    Feeling more brazen, Wilson opened his mouth to utter a retort, but his parted lips were invaded by Maxwell's own, as he swooped down to press another firm, hungry kiss to his lips. Wilson attempted to reposition his body underneath Maxwell's, but halted when a low growl escaped the demon's throat. He suddenly pulled away, breaking the kiss. His fingers trailed up to the neck of Wilson's vest, then ripped down the front to send buttons flying either direction. Making short work of his white shirt underneath, Maxwell, tore the latter away, as well, planting one hand firmly on Wilson's now-bare chest to keep him planted to the forest floor.

    Maxwell jumped to his feet to stand above Wilson, staring him down with ancient, needy eyes. He took several short steps to the side, and Wilson suddenly wondered if he were leaving. A curious feeling overtook him, as he wasn't entirely sure he _wanted_ the demon to depart. A pang of panic stung in his chest, as he tried to lift himself to his feet, but Maxwell uttered a single command that kept him frozen in his tracks.

    " _Stay,_ " he ordered with forcefully, ice hanging dangerously off the word. Wilson's eyes locked on Maxwell's long legs, the black fabric of his trousers shining in the dim light. His heart pounded violently against his chest, as he watched Maxwell undo his vest and shrug off his white-collared shirt, folding them into a neat pile just outside the swamp's edge. His chest, pale bare, and what would have previously seemed skeletal, was actually ripped in lean, dense muscle. Between his broad shoulders and slim waist stretched a long, trim core that shone brightly against the shadows behind him.

    Then, his mouth split into a wide grin, and Wilson could see each thin, shiny tooth glint in the low light. The corners of the smile reached up toward his eyes, crinkling the skin at the corners around the intense coals. Undoing and stepping out of his trousers, Wilson was given a full-on view of the slender, yet powerful legs. Each muscle seemed sculpted, impossibly defined in a way no mere man could ever achieve. Wilson watched each individual muscle ripple underneath the pale skin, as Maxwell slowly, teasingly, stepped out of his undergarments to reveal his organ. Hard and shining with precum, Wilson gaped at the sheer size of the flushed cock.

    As his grin turned to a light smirk, once more, Wilson followed Maxwell's deep gaze down to his own hard arousal.

    "I can take care of that for you, Pal."

    Before he had time to respond, Maxwell had taken one single, powerful leap toward him, bringing his leg down sharply upon Wilson's rips with a resounding crack. The scientist was flipped onto his stomach, coughing up a mouthful sweet, metallic blood. Gasping, wheezing for air, Wilson struggled to push himself to his feet. What had he been thinking? The thick veil of lust had been pulled over his logic, his instinct for _survival._  He'd let himself become cornered and played into Maxwell's sadistic trap _again_..

    Maxwell pounced onto Wilson's back, claiming his body as his own possession. The demon let out his chilling, twisted cackle, as he raked his nails down Wilson’s sides, ripping shreds in his skin, even through what remained of the shirt. Still grinning, he tugged Wilson's undergarments to reveal his bare behind. Then, trailing a finger over the edge of his opening, Maxwell teased the tense muscles, eliciting a single twitch as Wilson involuntarily hummed in a mixture of pain and arousal.

    “This is only the beginning, Pal.” Wasting no more time, Maxwell suddenly forced his long, hard member deep into the scientist with a single, powerful thrust. Wilson, tense and unready, yowled painfully into the empty wilderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there should be at least one more chapter, possibly two. Real smut soon to come.  
> Leave kudos if you like this, please. I munch those things like cookies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wilson stahp pulling the grass

    Wilson’s cry pierced the night, eventually fading into a deep moan as his muscles relaxed to allow Maxwell's entrance. His arms grasped in front of him, scraping the earthy, forest floor as the demon pounded into him again and again. He grabbed a clammy handful of grass by its roots, gritting his teeth as Maxwell’s nails dug deep into his hips, forcing his cock in even further. Wilson grasped a second handful of plant life, dirt caking underneath his nails as he cried out for the help that never came.

    After another painful, dry shove, one of Maxwell’s hands suddenly tore out of his raw, dripping side and slammed Wilson’s head into the ground. Clenching a fistful of hair, he yanked sharply upward and leaned in dangerously close to his bloodied ear.

    “ _Stop_ pulling my grass,” he whispered smoothly, tightening his grip. Wilson started to push himself up, but the tall, lean demon forced his face back into the earth. He let out an audible smirk when Wilson coughed into the ground on a small, stale leaf. “Tell me, Pal” Maxwell crooned, “You didn’t think this was going to be tender, did you?” Wilson elicited a muffled cry as he squirmed weakly underneath the demon. “Ah, Wilson,” he smirked, “You can put up more of a fight than _that_ , can’t you, Pal?”

    He let out another throaty laugh, then grabbed an even larger fistful of hair and _yanked_. Wilson felt skin and hair tear away, but his stifled, agonized cry was cut short by another deep thrust into his opening. Maxwell started driving into him relentlessly, picking up speed and intensity as precum started to smooth his pumps. An especially forceful thrust drove Wilson’s hard arousal into the ground. He groaned, arching backward before a firm hand planted him back into the dirt. Needing something to cling to, Wilson’s hands reached back to his own hips, grasping Maxwell’s slick, bloody hands. The tall trickster growled approvingly, and Wilson felt a shudder against his hips as a deep snarl worked its way up Maxwell’s throat. His own cock twitched at the sound, and he involuntarily arched back in one sharp motion. His muscles flexed against the slick, foreign form inside him, provoking a violent quake from the owner, before a hot stream of cum shot deep into him from the demon’s organ. Wilson’s ensuing moan played lightly over Maxwell’s low, trailing growl.

    “ _Wilson_.” His name sounded in Maxwell’s gravelly moan, raising goose bumps all over his flesh. Wilson could feel the hot breath on his spine with each of the demon’s low pants. His cock ached for that breath to engulf it.

    Almost as if reading his mind, Maxwell suddenly pulled out of him, flipping Wilson onto his back with a single, forceful shove. Repositioning himself to straddle the scientist’s thighs, he observed the pallid form below him. Wilson’s flushed cock shone brightly against his skin, and dark streaks of earth disturbed the smooth, pale canvas every here and there.

    Still breathing heavily, Maxwell licked his thin lips and grinned, his eyes resting on Wilson’s hard arousal. His gaze flickered to Wilson’s, captivating him in an intense, hungry glare before leaning down to flick his tongue over the tip of the organ. A hum worked its way up his throat as Wilson watched Maxwell’s tongue dart out like a serpent. He caught a flash of sharp, white teeth and moaned, his cock giving another involuntary twitch.

    “My, my, I take back what I said earlier,” Maxwell lifted his head just slightly, a smooth smirk playing on his lips, “You certainly _are_  chatty today.” Wilson had nothing to say in response, but instead gave the demon an exasperated look, begging with his eyes for him to finish what he started. Maxwell shook his head, and a mischievous grin overtook his features as he leaned down between Wilson’s outspread legs. Not breaking eye-contact, he started to run his tongue up the shaft of Wilson’s cock. The scientist closed his eyes and let out a sharp breath of air. He could feel Maxwell graze his tongue back over the top of his cock slowly, _teasingly_. The scientist gritted his teeth and dug his hands into the dirt, grasping another fistful of grass and ripping it by its roots.

    Suddenly, he felt sharp teeth brush over his tip. Wilson, without shame, let out another long, low moan.

    “ _What_ ,” Maxwell whispered against his organ, “did I tell you about pulling my grass?” Then he lifted away from Wilson’s cock and, flashing a menacing smile beforehand, took a deep bite out of his inner thigh.

    Wilson’s scream sounded sharply into the night. Blood streamed from the open wound over Maxwell’s open mouth. The artery must have been torn open. His heart thudded unbearably in his ears, but over the hot, constant thump, he thought he could hear Maxwell chew slowly on his flesh and swallow. His stomach did a repulsed flip.

    Surely he would bleed to death. Surely this was going to be the end, for this world, at least.. He'd had a nice base established here, and he was going to have to start from scratch again. After so much fighting, so much struggle in this harsh, wilderness dimension, he was going to meet his end this time at the mouth of the demon who sprung him here.

    Then, almost as if reading his mind a second time, Maxwell chuckled. “Don’t worry, Pal. You’re not getting off that easily.” Wilson lifted his head and watched the demon wipe mouth with the back of his hand through teary, clouded vision. He could see a large blotch of red that almost entirely covered his left thigh, as well as the bottom of the demon’s face. Blinking away tears, he stared as Maxwell moved his hands over the red area, touching lightly over the aching hole. Blood was spurting out of the wound, and Wilson thought he could feel the thick liquid pooling underneath his leg. He really _was_ going to bleed to death.

    But the flow started to cease when Maxwell’s hands brushed lightly over the surface of the wound. Shadows crept from deeep within the earth, encasing the hole in their cool enbrace. When they were finally gone, the hole still remained, but the flow of blood was minimal, if any at all.

    His eyes flickered back up to Maxwell’s, and he was suddenly very afraid. Smiling like a maniac, the demon’s gleaming teeth shone brightly against the dark scarlet that covered the bottom half of his face and neck. His intense gaze captivated him in a way that transcended definition. He was utterly terrified, yet unable to look away. Maxwell leaned over him possessively, arms planted firmly on either side of his chest. A single drop of blood fell onto Wilson’s face, but he was too petrified to flinch.

    “You are _mine_ ,” he growled. “You yielded your blood in the pursuit of knowledge- knowledge _forbidden_ to the minds of men, might I add." Wilson gulped, thinking back to that fateful night in his attic. "You made a blood pact with a demon, and because of that, Wilson Percival Higgsbury, you are _mine._ Your fate is mine, your existence is mine, and your _body_ is mine to claim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you go guys.  
> again, more to come, and leave kudos or a comment if you like this fic


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wilson and maxwell poor bbs

    Wilson could see the gears turning in Maxwell’s twisted mind. The glint in his eyes shone bright, and Wilson could sense just how much his desire had amplified. It was almost as if everything that had happened was the opening act of the show to come. Like drinking saltwater, the demon’s antics didn’t serve to quench his desire, but rather to fuel it. Wilson could practically taste Maxwell’s growing thirst, his _hunger_ , for more.

    As the subject enveloped his mind, Wilson started to feel an all-too-familiar sensation working its way through his middle. Before he had any more time to think, a loud groan, not from his throat this time, but from his abdomen, sounded loudly and hollowly into the still, night air. Maxwell, who’d been edging his way back to Wilson’s member, perked up at the noisy grumble.

    In a split second, his mind flashed back nostalgically to the time he could hole himself up in his attic for ages, not having to worry about sustenance until he remembered—usually after several days— to binge on whatever he could get his hands on.

    “You always did have a rather large appetite,” Maxwell crooned, his fingertips tracing along the shaft of his member. Wilson suddenly realized just how famished he was. When was the last time he’d eaten? Two days? Three? Judging by pangs that suddenly shot through his middle, Wilson guessed the latter. As if in agreeance, his stomach gave a second groan, this time even noisier than the first. “But my, my,” Maxwell smirked, “Tonight you appear absolutely _ravenous_.” The demon flashed a feral smile as he purred the last word, leaning in to plant a kiss on the scientist’s navel. His abdomen gave a sharp twitch as Maxwell nipped lightly over the surface of his skin, working his way up to trace his tongue over the tip of his nipple. Wilson hummed in approval, running a hand through the demon’s thick, course hair.

    “ _It’s been days…”_ he whined. At this, Maxwell paused, lifting his mouth away to look at Wilson with a mixture of savage excitement and hesitant pity. The latter was merely a flash, however, and Wilson immediately wondered whether he had seen the look on the demon’s face at all.

    “Well, then,” Maxwell murmured smoothly, “I think I have something to fix that.” Then he stood up above Wilson and, taking a single stride to the right, set himself back to the ground. He leaned back, spreading his knees to either side, fully exposing his erect member to a curious, onlooking Wilson.

    “What are you—”

    “Think hard, Pal…”

    “You mean your… _Oh_ , you insane son of a—”

    “ _Watch_ your tongue,” Maxwell warned. Wilson couldn’t help but notice the sly double-meaning.

    “If you seriously think I’m going to come over there and—” As if on cue, his stomach gave a greedy moan, and he was caught off guard before he could complete the sentence.

    “ _Precisely_ ,” Maxwell finished. The two locked gazes for several moments. Wilson glared defiantly as Maxwell leered knowingly. “Y’know Pal, you’re in _my_ world. I can make this night last as long as I’d like. Perhaps if you were to do me this pleasure…”

    Wilson gaped, exasperated, tired and worn from the night’s activities. He considered the demon’s offer, weighing his options. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last without sustenance. If Maxwell were to prolong the darkness too long, the repercussions could prove troubling, to put the situation lightly.

    He waited no longer. Slowly easing himself to his knees—the raw pain in his thigh was still throbbing intensely—Wilson edged his way over to a gleaming Maxwell.

    “Very good,” the demon purred. He reached a hand out to Wilson’s chin, tilting his head to meet the scientist’s resigned scowl. “Oh come on, Pal. Don’t be a stick in the mud. You want this just as much as I do.” Wilson made a disgusted face, regardless of the truth he felt in the words. “Besides,” Maxwell pressed on, “if you have fun with it, you’ll do a better job, and if I don’t find your work adequate…” a knowing, devilish smile played on his lips, “I might just keep you here until I do.”

    Shaking away the demon’s hand, Wilson sloped his head to view the flushed, shining organ before him. Readying himself, the scientist took a steadying breath before lowering his mouth over the tip of the cock. He traced his tongue hesitantly, at first, around the top of the arousal. The slightly salty mixture of sweat and sperm sparked his taste buds, sending an unexpected shiver down his spine. His lips brushed against the glans as he quivered, eliciting a heavy moan from the owner.

    A small thought occurred in the back of Wilson’s head: _he’d_ made Maxwell make that sound. _He_ had the upper hand. He had _control_ over this powerful entity.

    Maxwell was at his mercy.

    Giving a small smile, Wilson tested the extent of his power, and reached a single hand in to graze over the demon’s sack. Maxwell exhaled a sharp rush of air, closing his eyes and raising his pelvis just slightly to brush closer against the massaging hand.

    Perfect.

    Gaining confidence, Wilson brought his second hand to trail lightly along the inner thigh. The muscles tensed, and a stifled hum rumbled deep within the aroused demon. Wilson planted light kisses down the length of the cock, working his way back to the tip only after Maxwell was quivering with anticipation. He opened his mouth, starting to move in to surround the member, but pulled back at the last second, flashing a devilish smile as he watched Maxwell grit his teeth in yearning. The scientist’s tongue flicked across the tip of the member teasingly. The organ gave a sudden jerk, and a deep rumble of frustration worked its way up Maxwell’s throat.

    “ _You fucking tease_ ,” he snarled, “ _get on with it_.” Wilson’s stomach did a startled flip at the intensity lacing the words. Still, he took his time, licking his lips as he readied to take the member into his mouth. His hands worked skillfully, fingers adroit and supple from years of purposeful tinkering.

    Another impatient growl erupted from Maxwell, and suddenly, the hard, glistening cock was thrust into Wilson’s mouth with a forceful shove of his hips. He gagged at the initial impact, but recovered quickly, widening his mouth to accommodate the thick member and beginning his work. The demon moaned as Wilson wrapped his lips around the shaft, slowly sliding back to pull his mouth further up the length of the cock. Maxwell’s muscles flexed tightly, and his hand reached down to run itself feverishly through the scientist’s wild hair. He bobbed his head up and down, picking up speed as Maxwell’s breathing quickened to a steady pant. The demon reached another hand to Wilson’s head, attempting to control and hasten the pace, but a quick drag of teeth and a defiant flash of the scientist’s eyes ordered otherwise. A bubbling heat welled within Maxwell at the sheer nerve, but instead of fueling his anger, it only added to the hotness between his legs.

    Wilson worked his mouth around the hot, twitching member. His hand, still cupping the genitals, started to work its way down to finger Maxwell’s opening. A low groan sounded from the demon as his muscles first tensed at the touch, and then relaxed to allow a single finger’s entry. Wilson massaged in small circles until he was confident enough to insert a second, then a third finger, all the while sucking on his shuddering cock. His moans increased as the intensity of Wilson’s work drove his body to the brink of insanity.

    Finally, a powerful tremor raked Maxwell’s body, and a hot stream of seed shot into the scientist’s mouth. A powerful snarl erupted from deep within his core as Maxwell emptied himself into the ready recipient.

    Wilson wrapped his lips tightly around the wet cock, sucking the demon dry. He pulled away only after drinking every last bit of the hot, thick seed, greedily swallowing what was his to claim. Then, licking the remainder from his lips in a single swipe of his tongue, he leaned back to prop himself opposite of a panting Maxwell, who, after several moments, slowly gave him a satisfied grin.

    “Well, Pal,” he started, still trying to catch his breath, “I have to say, you didn’t disappoint.”

    “I didn’t intend to,” Wilson replied smoothly. Maxwell let out a long, low hum, resting his hands behind his head as he leaned back to lie casually on the ground. His hand reached into the air, conjuring a lit cigar in the tips of his fingers. He slowly brought it to his lips and took a deep drag before letting out the smoke in a thin, trailing cloud.

    The lust slowly started to drain from his body, and the painful aches from before began to make their voices heard, once more. His aching cuts, his throbbing thigh, and his bleeding scalp screamed their discontent, as Wilson reposition himself on the earthy floor.

    “You okay there, Pal?” Maxwell smirked, eyeing Wilson’s grimace.

    “Never been better,” he grumbled.  Then, as if in retort, Wilson’s stomach gave a loud, demanding groan. With the invigorating desire fading, the scientist started to register the painful, violent pangs that buffeted his core. He groaned, his hunger, piqued by the salty seed, seemed to rip through his empty, aching gut.

    Maxwell’s customary smirk overtook his features. “ _That_ ,” he chuckled, “sounds like a problem.” He stood up, flicking the cigar away in a puff of smoke before brushing the dirt first off of his hands, then his arms and torso. Then, he slowly made his way over to the pile of discarded clothes, gathering them in his arms before turning to face Wilson, whose face bore a look of pained craving. “Say, Pal,” he started, “you don’t look so good.” Pausing, Maxwell glanced over the horizon. Dull, pink light began to brighten the night sky, as the demon held up his end of the bargain. Then, flashing him a leering grin, he finished with an all-too-familiar command. “Better find something to eat before night comes.” And with that, he regressed in his signature puff of smoke, leaving a tortured, starving Wilson alone to fend for himself in another day in hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about continuing this, so let me know if that's something you guys would want  
> ALSO: my lovely, lovely friend stayed up into the wee hours of the morning writing this with me, so i am giving all due credit to:
> 
> mervenger.tumblr.com
> 
> for being a wonderful co-author. This would not have been nearly as descriptive without her insane writing skills, so go give her love and hugs and follow her on tumblr. She just got an account, so she needs welcoming into the community.
> 
> If you guys have any requests for future chapters, just let me know! The plan is still pretty loose, so if you have something you'd like worked in, I would be more than happy to oblige. uvu  
> Again, leave kudos and comments, and I will shower you with love!


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